


Noon Time Special

by banhmi



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Climbing Class, Counter Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-10 01:43:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15280830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/banhmi/pseuds/banhmi
Summary: Thanks to a well-placed cereal box, Josh and Chris get to try something they’ve both been thinking about. (No, it’s not the cereal).





	Noon Time Special

**Author's Note:**

> this was sitting half-done in my docs for a while before i finally got the burst of inspiration i needed to finish it off, and is the product of a drawing that i decided rly needed a fic component. so i went and wrote it myself! here it is, in all of its glory (?). 
> 
> happy reading!

The sun makes the trees glow lush in the window, the kitchen is a lit eggshell box, the hardwood is warm under his feet, and Josh can’t stop staring.

“Last I checked, you’re not a family of giraffes,” Chris says, “so why do you have to keep your cereal all the way up here?”

He reaches for the cabinets, standing on tiptoe to grab for a stowed away box of Oreo O’s. As his T-shirt hikes up, Josh runs his tongue over his teeth and takes in the warm stripe of Chris’ belly, the pattern of hair over it. This is the fourth time now.

There really was no reason to stash his cereal at that altitude, seeing as his parents subsisted on more ritzy offerings and his sisters usually preferred not to eat mouthfuls of sugar (ah, the benefit of living in a household of blasphemous non-believers). Well, he’d had no reason _before_ his eyes had first happened upon such a glorious sight. Having switched his designated cupboard for the third time in the last while, he’d gone from a single and all-too-brief eyeful to several instances in the same morning.  

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” Josh says. Yes, hold the applause. He knows he’s a genius.  

Chris snorts, ducking to the lower cabinets to grab a bowl. “Little on the nose there, huh?”

He cranes forward to spy on the nape of Chris’ neck, trying not to zero in on the tag sticking out of his shirt. “So these aren’t my peak hours of productivity. Sue me.”

“Ah, forgive me. Sometimes I forget that you’re nocturnal. If that. I honestly don’t think you sleep.”

“I sleep,” Josh says.

Bowls and plates and other dishware clink together. “You’re awake when I go to bed and you’re awake when I get up. I’m only making the most logical deduction here.”

“Uh-huh. Logical.”

Chris pops back up and places two bowls down. “Hey. Don’t take shots at people when they’ve woken up only ten minutes ago, dude. It’s just not right.”

“Y’know what’s not right?” Josh asks.

“Your face?” Chris replies, beaming when Josh loses his rhythm. “I mean, it _can’t_ be legal to look that good in the morning. Really. What the hell.”

“It’s noon. You got up at noon, Cochise.”

“...Oh. So you just look like that all the time. Gotcha.”

Josh grins and rubs the warmth out of his neck. “Nice save. That was clutch.”

“Pretty good if I do say so myself.”

Okay, okay, enough of that. “I’ve got something to say, too.”

“Yeah?” Tilt of the head.

He cups his chin in his hand and places his elbow on the countertop. “Yeah. ...C’mere.”

Chris stares at him, blinking.  

Josh curls his lips, and, using his eyes, indicates the spot next to him. “I’m not asking again.”

Shoulders straight; eyes wide. That does it.

Keeping his posture lazy and his smile lazier, he watches Chris carefully round the counter, stop before him. “Good,” he says, turning in his seat. He reaches out and encourages Chris to move closer so he can press a kiss to his chest, rest his chin there and look up.

“So...now what?” Chris asks, tracing lines along Josh’s forearms.  

Josh lets his hands fall to the curvature of Chris’ ass. “What d’you think?”

“...Back to your room?”

“Chris, it is _such_ a nice day out. Back to my room? Don’t be silly.” He sneaks his fingers beneath the hem of Chris’ shirt, rubbing circles into soft skin with his thumbs.

“Yeah, but…” Chris worries his lip with his teeth, looking out the windows around them with their drawn blinds. Josh looks, too.

Framed within panes, the emptiness of the patio becomes its defining feature, a still life of sorts characterized by chaise longues and a fire pit and a gazebo. At the height of summer, the trees lining the backyard are thick with flowers and foliage. Flanking the left and right sides of the space, they sway in a silent breeze. Through the French doors behind them is the pool, off to the side in its glass casing and glimmering over top the view of a distant cityscape. Other homes sit tucked away in the hills. Not a soul, not a sound. Not a sound inside either.    

“Everyone’s out of the house, bro,” Josh says, catching Chris’ attention, “and nobody way out there can see us. We’re good.”

“What if someone comes back early?”

“Who?”

“I dunno. Could be anybody.”

Josh shrugs. It doesn’t really matter where they go, just as long as wherever it is they get to do something. And soon. “Fair enough,” he says. “It’s no biggie. We can head back up.” He stands and, after stretching, touches the small of Chris’ back.

“Wait,” Chris says, stilling at the applied pressure.

“What’s up?”

“Can we...have a recap of what everyone’s doing today?”

Ah. Josh smirks, nods slowly and leans on the counter, basks in the feel of Chris’ eyes following him. He stares at the ceiling as if tilting his head might let the information spill out. “Han and Beth are with Sam and Ash at Topanga somewhere. ...Probably gonna Instagram shit all day and go to the beach with the rest of the girls like they usually do. You know the drill.”

A hand rests over his, index finger tracing over veins. “And...your parents?”

“They’ve got a meeting with the production designers, some kind of fancy luncheon. Meeting with the director of photography. Something else. I don’t ‘member.”

“In other words: long day.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Long enough for…”

“...for me to fuck you over the counter without anyone suspecting a thing when they get back.”

Chris opens his mouth, managing a small, “ _Oh_ …” before he works it closed into a smile and leans his own weight against the countertop. He almost loses his balance, elbow slipping off the edge. Too cute for his own good.   

“Like the sound of that?” Josh asks. Not that he really needs to know; the slight bulge in Chris’ sweats answers that question.

“Yeah,” Chris says softly, voice fading into a sigh as Josh cups a hand over him.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Great,” he says. “Take it away, Cochise.”

One hand goes to his waist. “T-Take it away or take it off?”

“You still got blood to think with? Impressive.” Josh angles inwards, laughing into a kiss that Chris meets him to accept.

They make a few slow exchanges, hands drifting over warming skin before Josh guides them to the side of the counter, away from the chairs and in full view of the French doors. The change in temperature is immediate, heat buttery over his back as he slips a knee between Chris’ legs.

Before he can continue, Chris takes hold of his shirt and raises it, leaving the action unfinished to keep his arms up. He doesn’t say anything, only stares and lets his eyes wander over Josh’s chest.

“What’s wrong?” Josh asks. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Is that a real question? Of course you do.” Chris smiles and shakes his head. “Sorry, it’s just—this never gets old.”

“You’re not sick of me yet? What am I doing wrong?”

Chris rolls his eyes and finishes helping him out of his shirt, tossing it to the floor.  Then he tilts his hips and moves over Josh’s thigh. Their mouths cross with a more frenetic energy this time, movements less precise as their tongues tangle. They cling to each other, enjoying the shared warmth and breath.     

“You could get off just like this, couldn’t you?” Josh asks, letting his hands meander down Chris’ sides. “I don’t even have to really touch you, huh?”

Chris lets out something between a groan and a whine, bearing down and moving a little faster.

“Jesus. You are _so_ adorable when you’re worked up, y’know that?”

“So many questions,” Chris mutters, closing his eyes. “Stop asking so many questions.”

“Okay,” Josh says, chuckling. “The answer’s always ‘yes’ anyway.”

Chris nods, breathing in sharp and cursing as Josh lifts his shirt with splayed hands, swipes his thumbs over exposed nipples, pinches them between his teeth. Josh delights in the feel of Chris’ cock twitching against his leg, his own straining his jeans. And at this proximity, admiring the sandy hair on Chris’ stomach is more than easy.  

“Better take care of you before your pants get soaked,” Josh says, grinning at the hazy look in Chris’ eyes, the fullness of his pupils.

He has no trouble taking Chris by the hips and turning him around, nipping at his neck and the dip of his shoulders, following the trails of freckles there. A few times he stops to suck hard, more interested in the noises he procures than the marks he leaves (though he has to admit they do look pretty good). Once he reaches the waistband of Chris’ sweats, he runs a hand up his back and, applying more and more pressure, folds him over the coolness of the granite.

Chris pillows his cheek on folded arms and Josh gazes down at the sight of him: shirt hiked up, face flushed with glasses askew, little marks peppering his skin. Breath soft through his mouth, and, oh...? He spots a hand inching towards the edge of the countertop.

“Not so fast,” he sing-songs, grabbing it  and returning it to its proper place.

“ _Dude_. C’mon.” Chris pushes backwards and they groan simultaneously. Josh lets his hips kick forward. Just once. Nothing more.

“All in due time, Cochise. Be good.”

“I _am_.”

“You’re being impatient. That’s the opposite of good.”

“And _you’re_ being a jerk.”

“Never said I was being otherwise.”

“Can you stop for just one minute?”

“You only need one minute?”

“Josh.”

“Okay. I think I can make an exception,” Josh says, rocking his hips gently, running a hand along Chris’ stomach, squeezing it. The sound of Chris moaning flits straight to his dick; he exhales through his nose, careful not to let his breath shake. Not much success there.  

“I think you _want_ to make an exception,” Chris says lightly.

He opens his eyes. Dammit. (He closed them?)

“Am I right?”

“You got me,” he says, thumbing a stray lock of hair from Chris’ forehead.  

In one smooth motion, he has Chris’ sweats and briefs pooled around his ankles. Chris gasps at the quickness of it and the sudden exposure of his skin, his toes curling. Skimming his fingers over the inside of a plush thigh, Josh waits until he receives a noise of protest before he fits Chris’ cock in his hand, its head slick beneath his thumb.

He appreciates its weight in his palm, gives it a few strokes. A loud groan fills the kitchen and Chris squirms, grinding into him. As much as he’d like to carry its thickness on his tongue, having it rest on the curve of his fingers is just as nice. Letting Chris pump into the loose circle of his hand, he undoes his jeans, shifts them down only enough to free himself. He smears his pre over his dick and then, sighing, rubs against Chris’ ass.

It’s the lightest of contact; regardless, Chris welcomes it, humming as he nudges his pants away with his feet. It doubles as his method of shuffling closer.

“I can understand why you wanted to go back to my room,” Josh says, leaning his full weight on Chris’ back, pressing him into the counter. He catches his ear in his teeth, tugging on it once, twice, until Chris laughs and turns his head. Their lips smack as they indulge in a quick kiss.  

“Yeah? Why?” He pecks Josh on the nose.

“You just don’t know how to be quiet, bro. You are _so_ noisy.”

The red in Chris’ face spreads to his ears and down his neck. “What?”

“You heard me. Anything I do to you,” —Josh demonstrates by drawing his fingers along the underside of Chris’ cock, which gets him a drawn-out whine— “you’ve got something to say.”

“Oh my God,” Chris says, tucking his face in his arms.

“What? You’re telling me all this time you didn’t know?”

“...No? I mean...I don’t know! That’s really not the first thing I think about when you’re—”

“When I’m doing this?”

“Ah, f- _fuck_ …!” Chris sputters, eyes widening and cheeks plunging into a deeper red as Josh alternates between a fast stroke and a slower one that goes right down to the base, ending with his thumb running over a sleek ridge.

“No worries, Cochise. I dig it. S’good. Real good.”  

“Really?”

“Yes, really. What, are you embarrassed?”

“Um. A...a little?”

“Bro. Take it from me. It’s fucking hot.”

“...Oh.” Chris averts his gaze, smiles to himself. Still a touch shy, but with less edge. “You’re really not messing with me?”

Josh pats his back. “Nah, man. My dick and I are dead serious.”

Chris scoffs. “You’re like, the complete opposite of me.”

“Yeah. That’s how it goes when you’ve got four nosy people in the house.”

“You live in a freakin’ mansion.”

“Doesn’t matter, dude.”

“Sure it does.”

“Hey, _hey_. Settle down,” Josh says.

“Pfft. What if I don’t?”

“Well… I _could_ make sure the neighbours hear you.”

“Josh…” Chris shoves back, muffling any other sounds he makes with his arm.  

Josh entertains him this time, rubbing against him hard and offering a few languid pulls. “You want people to know how much you like getting fucked?” he whispers, speaking along the shell of Chris’ ear.

A breathy laugh below him turns into a softer sound. It takes a moment for words to form. “Mmn...the concept is okay. But...”

“Not for real.”

“Not for real.”

A peck on the shoulder. “Fine by me, bro.”

“Mm. Here’s good.”

“That it is. Right in front of all these open windows.”

“ _Hell_ yes…”

“Yup. Now open up.”

Slipping his fingers into Chris’ mouth sends a shooting star through him, tails leaving behind a bright tingling in his chest. Resting his forehead against Chris’ back, he lets a groan rumble out of him, turns his focus to reaching into his pocket for lube. He almost fumbles it, shivering as a warm tongue nudges and passes between his index and middle finger. While it’s not the best view, he watches for a moment as Chris bobs his head, the small sounds he makes travelling as vibrations into Josh’s body. God. So simple yet so, so good. Just as he places the bottle on the counter, Chris’ lips slip off him with a _pop_.

“Okay, I’m ready,” he says, “come on.”

“I know you want me bad, but you are _not_ ready,” Josh says.

“You know what I meant,” Chris mumbles.

Josh nips at his shoulder. “I dunno. Maybe.”

Chris shakes him off, grumbling.  

Alright, no more teasing. Right to it. Gradually, he works in one lubed finger. Two. Three. With each addition, Chris’ voice becomes louder, less stable while he tries to shift into a better position. Christ, he can’t wait to get inside of him. Just feeling him around his fingers has heat speckling his stomach, each flicker making him ache.

“You good?” Josh asks.

Chris nods, adjusting his glasses before folding his arms again. “H-How about you?”

“Oh, _very_. And I’ll be even better in a second.” He removes his fingers.  

“Wow. Same here. What’re the chances?”

“Right?”

Silence.  

“Maybe more than a second. A-Aren’t you supposed to be helping _me_ get off?”

“Shit,” he says, and Chris snorts. So maybe he’d gotten a little lost in applying lube to himself. Yeah, it happens. Whatever. “I guess I’ll have to give it to you real good now.”  
Chris throws him a cheeky look over his shoulder. “You weren’t planning on doing that alre— _ohh my God_...”

As he guides himself inside, Josh sighs at the way Chris’ face yields, how it drops against his arms and skews his glasses. Exhaling slow, he takes in the surrounding heat, the fluctuation between tightness and a perfect fit as Chris accommodates him.

“Is this as good for you as it is for me?” Josh asks, pressing his lips to Chris’ neck, nosing a spot behind his ear. “Fuck, you feel _nice_...”

“Yes,” Chris replies, repeating that a few more times, yes, _yes_ , oh fuck yes, each time heavier than the last, and Josh quiets him with his mouth. Clumsy and misplaced, the kisses they share have no real direction behind them, too tiny of an outlet for their energy.

He doesn’t pull out yet, choosing instead to swivel his hips, settle on a slow and shallow rhythm, place one hand beside Chris’ to stop him from reaching for himself if he tries. Careful not to leave a gap between them, he offers no chances for Chris to counter him. God, it’s torture, absolute torture, and his brain uncoils further with every passing second; knowing that Chris gets to take the brunt of his teasing makes it all worth it.

A string of words and a throaty tangle of sounds tumble out from beneath him and Josh can’t concentrate long enough to dissect the syllables. Maybe his name featured once, maybe twice. A hand bumps into his wrist; he catches and holds it until Chris stops straining.

“Can I help you?” he inquires. Sure, he’d mentally noted to stop with the teasing. Where’s the fun in that, though?

“Yes,” Chris grits out. “You can.”

“What can I do?”

“Mm. You can get a move-on, for one.”

“I’ve got a hard-on. Does that count?”

Chris peers over his shoulder and delivers the most exasperated expression he can muster. Two seconds later, they fall into a fit of giggles.

“Alright, I get it. Christopher’s had _enough_. He’s ready for some action.”

“Ready to pass out, more like.”

“Did I overdo it?”

“Oh hell no,” Chris says. “No, this is like, perfect.”

“Okay. Good.”

“It’d just be even better if you, ah— _yes_ , yes, exactly, _yes_...”

Josh rucks up Chris’ shirt  under his arms, and, slowly, places a hand on the back of his neck. He keeps his grip present yet light. Chris’ humming turns into a wavering moan as he begins with a steady rhythm, and soon after he finds sounds slipping from his own mouth. He can’t get over the slight resistance his body meets when he shoves Chris into the counter, how Chris’ knees bump, bump, bump into its wood siding each time; the light ripple that passes across his skin whenever Josh flicks forward is goddamn tantalizing. The windows gleam like eyes as they lose themselves to each other, too frenzied to care. It’s nothing short of incredible. Head rolling back, he floats on the sensations flowing through him, wave upon wave on the shoreline of his skin.

“ _Harder_ ,” Chris moans, clutching his hair with one hand because he can’t grab onto anything else.    

Of course he obliges the request, kind of sort of _definitely_ losing track of his composure. Jesus. He could bite the blood out of his lip watching sweat pearl over Chris’ temple. Below him, Chris tries to meet each thrust, panting hard, eyes screwing shut when Josh firms the grasp on his neck and nails him at the right angle.

" _Fuck_ , Josh, that’s good— _holy shit_ …”

“You like that?”

Chris nods hurriedly, as if on a time limit.

“God. You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how good you look like this,” Josh drawls, blinking back the stars filling his head. “Bent over all nice just for me, trying to fuck yourself on my cock. S’at how much you need me?”

Whatever Chris says in response gets lost in his breath, but the way he peers over his shoulder and smiles broadly tells Josh that he’s right in some capacity.

“Must’ve thought about this before.”

“U-Uh-huh…”

“What else?”

Chris manages an inquisitive noise.

“Over the couch?”

“God. Yes. Abso _lutely_ …”

“How about your desk in our dorm?”

“ _Mmn_ …” Chris bites his lip. “Now I will…”

For a few minutes, only the sounds of their overlapping pleasure permeate the kitchen: their sweat-lined skin smacking together, their forceful whispering to each other, Josh’s faint groaning as the constant undercurrent to Chris’ loudness.    

Eventually, Chris unfolds one arm, opening his hand.

“Getting close?” Josh asks, words thick on his tongue.

A series of nods, a small yet firm _yes_.  

Josh curves forward, replacing the weight of his hand with that of his body, and reaches down to loop Chris’ dick and jerk him off. He directs his other hand underneath the expectant fingers laying open for him, clasps them tight. It’s the only part of him that feels solid.

Chris no longer has anything intelligible to say. He keens loud as Josh makes sure to saturate his every nerve, and Josh can feel Chris doing the same for him, enfolding him and pushing him to the brink. Their being pressed together enhances every sensation, heat mixing, lines between them interlacing, crossing, dissolving entirely. He curses and buries his face into Chris’ shoulder.

Chris’ voice hitches and he tenses up, squeezes Josh’s hand as he cums. Josh follows close behind, exhaling hard and working Chris’ cock dry, shoving forward to really fill him up. It takes them a moment to ride out that last wave of bliss, hips trembling, breath heavy with exertion. Once the sparks have left them, they collapse in a heap.

“...Bro. How’ve we not done that before? That...was... _amazing_ ,” Chris says, reaching one hand back to caress the side of Josh’s face, brush through his hair.

“Thank you, thank you.” He kisses Chris’ fingers as they pass near his lips, laying his head on Chris’ back. “I’ll be here all week.”

“Good,” Chris says, making a contented noise as Josh rubs a cum-slick hand across the underside of his stomach.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause I think…” Chris shuffles backwards to encourage Josh to move, turns around, and fixes his shirt. “I think we gotta do that again. Wait, scratch that. Definitely. We _definitely_ gotta do that again.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, Cochise,” Josh says, collecting their discarded clothing from the floor and not-so-discreetly wiping off his hand. Grabbing a handful of Oreo O’s to snack on, he sighs and smiles as he gazes out the windows.

Chris steals a few pieces from his hand, swooping in also to steal a kiss. They share a dopey grin between them before cleaning up.

Yup. No doubt about it.  

There’s no better way to spend a gorgeous Sunday afternoon indoors.

 

(Or so Josh believes, for now.)


End file.
